


The Truth

by LexieCarver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A short fic, Angst, Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexieCarver/pseuds/LexieCarver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>General fic</p><p>Word Count: 1500 </p><p>Notes: For some reason I wanted to make the reader British. :) For all the Brits out there and the American who love them, this one goes out to you. No Smut, sorry kiddos it happens. Inspiration took me here. This was made for one-shots-supernatural's Hiatus Writing Challenge Week 6. The prompt was : "Technically it wasn't on fire."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth

[Also posted on Tumblr-](http://roxy-davenport.tumblr.com/post/147084374456/the-truth)

 

You drove up to the house. Your hands were shaking on the wheel. If you had just come a few minutes earlier, she may have been alive. You looked up at the house engulfed in flames. Your partner carefully tipped your chin towards him.

 

“You sure you want to do this?“

 

“I have to, for Mary.”

 

“Okay then, let’s do it.”

 

You took a deep breath steadying yourself and trying to calm your raging emotions. Fake feds don’t cry at house fires. You slowly exited the car with your partner and slowly walked up to the cops. When you heard what they’re saying, you turned absolutely pale. You were horrified at their insensitivity.

 

“Technically it wasn’t on fire. It was a fucking barbecue.”

 

You’ve been living in the States for years and don’t usually speak with a British accent or use British phrases but when you get super pissed, your British comes out.

 

“Bloody hell.”

 

Your “partner” held you back from choking the life out of the cop right then and there. You took another deep breath to try and keep your voice even. Your “partner” spoke first to give you extra time to compose yourself.

 

"Of course, the brass sent us, the Feds,“ your partner told them, quickly flashing his badge just long enough for them to see the symbol.

 

“The coppers seem to be taking a piss. They can’t be bothered to actually nab the bad guy. Show some damn respect you wankers.”

 

“My partner is a little incensed by your lack of compassion.“

 

“Just because the cops on almost every cop show make pun-cringing jokes over dead bodies doesn’t mean that behavior is OK in real life. What rubbish!”

 

“Where’s the family?" your partner quickly asks, deflecting the sudden anger the cops feel towards you both.

 

One of the cops point over to his left. You hurry on over to speak to the family, brushing rather gruffly past the cops.

 

“We already questioned them,” they called from behind you. You stopped walking and walked back towards the cops, ignoring your partner's glare.

 

“The Bureau sent us. Are we really gonna do this pissing match? We need to have a chat with the family.”

 

You looked so intently at them you thought they might burst into flames. There was a tense silence for a moment as you waited for a protest but none came. Ok then, good, they were letting you investigate. You walked hurriedly over to the family and shepherded them into your car.

 

“A bit more privacy than out in the open," you offered.

 

So this was little Dean and Sam. Dean was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up. He was such a tough kid and he was holding his little brother rather protectively against his body. What a good kid. He must've been terrified but there he was protecting Sam. Mary raised him well.

 

“Hello, I’m Y/N Morrison and this is Steven Zepplin.”

 

John looked at you both, confused.

 

“Rather unfortunate names. Too bad our parents had no sense of humor. I am so sorry about what happened here. Losing your wife like that. It’s horrible. And I am so sorry to have to talk to you about this but can you tell me what happened?”

 

“Thank you for your sentiment. The cops have been….”

 

“They wouldn’t know tact and sympathy if it bit them in the ass.”

 

Dean quirks his eyebrows at your statement.

 

“Sorry my partner is very colorful indeed,” Detective Zepplin said.

 

“I don’t know how much help I can be to you and you wouldn’t believe me,” John whispered.

 

“Why don’t you try us. We’ve been at this job quite a long time. There’s not a lot we wouldn’t believe. But before you do that, Detective Zepplin, could you stay with the kids while I talk to…. John is it?”

 

“Sure," your partner replied with a knowing glance.

 

“Yes, it’s John. Thank you,” he replied.

 

“Mmmhmm. Of course sir," you responded. The last thing you wanted was to have to explain the truth to a couple of kids. They deserved to have a childhood and not  a head full of monsters.

 

You walked over to the backyard behind the house. John stopped suddenly and started speaking, softly this time. You turned towards him fidgeting with your hands, worried about what really happened here. You suspected it was some sort of monster given Mary's job.

 

“OK well, I heard Mary, my wife scream. I came into the room and saw her pinned to the wall. She kept screaming at me and moving up the wall. There was something else there in the room. Then she burst into flames on the ceiling.”

 

Now that John was away from the children he broke down. You really weren’t expecting it but you knew how much they loved each other. She gave up hunting for John. He must be one hell of a guy.

 

The question now was whether he’d be tough enough for the truth. Whether he’d be able to protect them now, because the demons clearly found them. You had failed Mary. You thought it was risky when she agreed to marry John and you promised that you could keep them safe. You ran over here to get to Azazel first. You called Mary several times to warn her but she didn’t pick up. Now you had to get this bastard! But why was Azazel here in the first place and what did he want? You needed to know what room he was in. That may be a clue to what he was after. But instead you just crouched down and held John while he cried. You cried, too. Mary was like a sister to you. It felt so good to be near someone else who loved her as much as you did.

 

“I lost someone too very recently.” You said through sobs.

 

After a long while, you both wiped your eyes and got up. John started walking back to the car but you stopped him by walking in front of him.

 

“What happened here was terrible but please tell me where they found her.”

 

John looked down and whispered, “Sam’s room.”

 

Your face paled and you swallowed loudly. John didn’t see your face and just walked back to the car to be with his family. Your partner came around to the back of the house to find you. He wondered what was taking you so long.

 

“Azazel was in Sam’s room. Do you think that he did something to him?”

 

“Don’t go there. Let’s just find that son of a bitch and kill him.”

 

“I was supposed to protect them. I promised her that if she married John I would protect her family.”

 

“And you can still make good on that promise. Save them now. You tried to save Mary, you got here as quick as you could and she didn’t pick up the phone.”

 

“I know she never wanted the boys to be hunters but there’s no other way to protect them. John and the boys living an apple pie life will put them more in danger than if they knew the truth.”

 

“What do you need?”

 

“A large envelope and our research.”

 

You went to John’s hotel room door and slipped the large envelope under the door and promptly left, hoping you could save them. John heard a noise under by his door and opened it, only to find nothing there. He heard squealing tires on a car speeding off in the distance. John looked down and saw the letter. Not bothering to close the motel door, he just opened the letter right then and there and started reading.

 

  _Hello John,_

_I am sincerely sorry for Mary’s death. I knew your late wife; we were best friends, almost sisters really. This might come as a shock to you but to save yourself and the boys you need to know the truth. I just hope you’re tough enough to help me do what needs doing. You’re all in danger. I’m not really an FBI agent; I’m a hunter like your wife. A hunter in this context means that I hunt monsters. I assure you they’re real. Don’t believe me? Look at all the newspaper articles, stories, clippings and journal entries enclosed._

 

_You have two choices as I see it. You can keep running or you can get the son of a bitch that killed her. 'Cause I sure as hell am gonna get that bastard. But know that once you go down this road there is no turning back._

_Monsters are real and one of them killed Mary, a demon named Azazel. It’s taken me years of hunting to fill that journal with all the useful information one would need. Use that as your guide and protect the boys. If you want to know more, give me a ring -- my number’s on the inside of the envelope._

_Y/N_

 

And sure enough that night John called and became a hunter.


End file.
